


Crystals

by Voidcoffee



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Vomiting, and how that felt, it's mostly bren/caleb, just a little drabble wondering what exactly happened with the crystals, though astrid and eodwulf are mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-18
Updated: 2019-07-18
Packaged: 2020-07-07 20:29:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19857571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Voidcoffee/pseuds/Voidcoffee
Summary: Bren had always had full trust in his mentor so when, one day, he promises them he can make them even more powerful, he trusts him completely. But was that the right decision to make?





	Crystals

Bren had always sensed a vague sense of dread whenever Trent was around. He’d always attributed it to those hawk-like eyes of his, the way the room seemed to chill whenever he was around, the sharp edges of his tongue. Never did he sense the magic. Not until it was too late, anyway. After all, Trent was his mentor, his teacher - he only wanted the best for him. Eodwulf and Astrid said the same. They felt the same. In the end, it was only Bren who saw through the illusion. Perhaps it was the dying screams of the parents he adored so much. Maybe the spell just ran out and Trent was too distracted to renew it in time. He’d never know, and he felt at peace with that.

Peace was not a thing he knew when in the company of Trent Ikithon though. His teenage years were spent surrounded by horrors. Deep inside, he knew his father had not seen such terrible things during his time in the military as he’d see on an average Monday. That bothered him. That pang in his chest never went away. Worse even, he was the cause of it all. He  _ wanted _ this. Fear and joy fought for dominance inside of him. Now he looked back on it, he felt his heart freeze at the realization joy won most of the time. Labeling himself as a sadist was an easy thing to do. It may not be the right thing, but it’s not like he knew. The desire to punish himself was far stronger than the desire to be fair.

Trent always took the three teens to the backroom after that day, but it never was as bad as the first time. Sure, the screaming never ceased. The tears did not either. But that first day it was as if the roaring ocean had suddenly flooded the room. It was dark. The only light came from a bag on a metal table. Blue light. Bright. It seemed to ring even though Bren knew that was impossible. Pure magic power made the room boom. His vision throbbed. It was as if a blanket was thrown over his brain. Eyes met. Noticing the same vacant gaze in his friends was not hard. No, it wasn’t just him. 

Three chairs stood lined up in front of them. No words needed to be spoken for them to know exactly what to do, though Trent gave them a shove to get them started anyways. Bren stumbled forwards. His hand caught the smooth leather of the chair, holding him up. A gasp for air escaped him. He was closer to the light now, felt its power push into his skin like pinpricks. A hand pushed his shoulder and he fell into the chair. He wiggled himself upright. It was as if the leather was already perfectly shaped to his body. The sensation was not unlike being held. It was surprisingly nice. The arms of the chair pressed into his sides, leaving no space for his own arms to rest. They dangled over the chair. Bren couldn’t help but notice the metallic clasps at the legs and arms, but was quick to shrug it off. They simply borrowed it from one of the torture rooms, that was all. It meant nothing. The building was sparingly furnished. It made sense. Right?

It wasn’t until the clasps forced themselves around his limbs that he realized it did not make sense. There were chairs in the dining room. There were chairs in the library. Why take them from the torture rooms if there were plenty of better options, unless… Unless you knew the person would not want to stay. His heart beat against his chest. It beat so quick it almost spasmed. His eyes were wide like plates, sweat beginning to run down his forehead in a steady stream. Containing the tremble of his lips appeared impossible. Astrid’s voice pierced the room: “What’s going on! Why-” she rattled her bindings “Why is all this necessary?!” Bren heard the tremble in her voice. Part of him even felt glad at it, glad not to be alone with these feelings. 

“You’ll see. Don’t worry, it’ll only serve to make you stronger.” Trent’s cold tone reminded the three of his authority, and immediately all questions they had before ceased to exist. If Trent said it was good, it had to be. He was never wrong. He was their master, and they had nothing but complete trust in him. The mysterious bag opened under the touch of his long, boney fingers. Instantly, the room changed temperature. It was as if the air was boiling, yet freezing at the same time. A breath of air shot through Bren’s lungs. Tears filled his eyes. From the heavy breathing, he could tell his companions felt much the same. He heard the familiar clatter of a knife being picked up. Before he’d even turned his head, a piercing pain shot up his arm and he screamed out in pain. He didn’t need to look to know where the knife had gone. A ringing sound. The wound, which before had felt flaming hot, cooled down, From the corner of his eye he saw a bright blue crystal sticking from the bloody flesh.

Everything, even down to the smallest capillary, seemed to throb as the crystal pushed its power inside of him. His nostrils flared. Breathing felt even more difficult than before. It was as if his chest was being compressed, as if gravity itself had changed. His vision blurred. Part of him was aware it might be due to lack of oxygen, but it quickly became apparent it wasn’t anything close to that. The world doubled. Then again. And again. And again, until he felt certain he knew exactly what a spider’s universe looked like. They were mirrors. No. He looked more closely. If they were mirrors at all, they were faulty. The differences were subtle, but they were there nonetheless. He was faintly aware of his teacher’s voice as he played a strange game of spot the differences with himself. There, the crystal was purple. There, he was wearing long robes instead of a shirt and pants. There, Eodwulf had long hair. The differences were subtle, but noticeable and enough to be off-putting at the very least. His brain felt woozy. He caught himself on his shoulder, his confusion enough to throw him off balance entirely. What was it he was seeing? It felt so real, more real than reality itself. But it couldn’t be, he knew what was right, he knew the world he existed in and that sure wasn’t it. 

As sudden as it had come, it was gone. When he awoke from that strange vision, he found himself hunched forward in his chair, gasping for air, his trousers wet with tears and spit and blood. It took him a moment to realize he was shaking. And he was shaking badly. His throat felt raw as if he’d been screaming his lungs out for hours, but he didn’t remember that. As a matter of fact, he didn’t remember anything. Nothing but the visions. He tried to speak, but all that came out were disjointed noises. It was as if a wild animal was attempting to mimic human speech and failing entirely. He felt a cold force on his forehead. At the same time, he noticed the crystal was gone, and all that was left was a nasty gash on the inside of his forearm. The cold force pushed him against the head of the chair. He stared deep into the eyes of his teacher.

“I’m glad to see you enjoyed yourself. Get used to it,” were the last words he heard before vomit pushed itself past the gates of his lips and his vision turned dark. 


End file.
